Not Myself Tonight
by Reigning Rats
Summary: Tim's in a bad place and Selina's got just the fix. In which Tim acquires a new late night crime fighting identity, Catlad, and tries to mend his broken familiar bonds.
1. Chapter 1

Selina was not a forgiving woman, Tim found out. Day after day, she pushed him harder. None of his previous mentors had ever put so much emphasis on acrobatic combat. For years, Tim had straddled the line between agility and brute force. Now, he was being forced to relearn, reshape himself, and he damned well tried. The more fluid motions didn't come as easily as they did for Dick, a fact he'd soon become bitter over, but sheer determination kept him repeating the drills again and again. Each time, Selina sat languidly on the sidelines, purring when he executed the move correctly and flashing her whip in warning when he stumbled.

He didn't regret his decision, not really. The thought of stealing still made his stomach roil, but knowing he'd take the spoils and give them to charity made him feel infinitely better. It was a psychological charade at best, meant to soothe his conscience, and he _knew_ that. Tim just didn't really care. He hadn't cared about many things since he'd lost himself. At times, he wondered if there weren't still pieces missing: an incomplete portrait of someone many once knew well.

Selina's chest rumbled in a purr from her perch as Tim came to a stop. He'd been practicing evasive maneuvers that were more flash and flare than he was used to. It seemed impractical, but he understood. Being Catwoman wasn't about efficiency; it was about _fun_, letting loose and casting aside the inhibitions built into the human psyche while remaining completely anonymous behind a mask of black.

"I think you're ready," she crooned, standing languidly as she tucked her whip back into the holster at her waist.

Taking pause, Tim allowed her a small, wry smirk, "You think, or you're sure?"

He got a flippant hand, his comment dismissed as she sniffed, "You know what I mean, Tim. Now, come on, let me show you your new nighttime look."

With a feral grin, she turned and strutted out of the training room. Tim followed, shaking his head ruefully while picking up a towel to wipe his sweating brow. Despite the shift of combat styles, he still received a thorough workout, one which had transformed his body over the last few months. If Jason could see him now, he'd surely get a laugh. Damian, too. Those thoughts made him frown bitterly even as they both ghosted through Selina's downtown condo.

She went to her bedroom, a place Tim had never been nor had ever wanted to be, and delved into the depths of her closet. Pulling back, she held up her prize for Tim to judge. While he wasn't entirely thrilled with getting into a PVC catsuit, his masculinity would surely never recover, he had to admit, it was. . . alluring. Something dark and devious wound tight in his belly as he reached out to take hold of her old suit. She'd obviously altered the suit to fit Tim. When she'd found the time to eye his measurements, he really didn't want to know.

"Well, try it on, Timmy. I want to see how my kitten looks."

Long ago, he'd learned to live with being called kitten. Despite her rather dubious record, she'd taken a liking to him just as he had her. He'd become her kitten and she had become his. . . He wasn't sure, exactly. Not mother, no one could replace his mother, but mentor seemed too shallow for the bond they'd forged. For now, he just thought of her as his Selina, his Catwoman.

Shrugging nonchalantly, he dropped the towel he'd brought before dragging off his training attire. Selina had long ago admonished him for being too "uptight and prudish". The third month after he'd agreed to join her, she began a disaster of a sexual education course, focusing more on sexual expression than anything else. While he had been absolutely mortified and dreaded coming back from classes each day, she remained unfazed by it all. That week, Tim hadn't been terribly fond of Selina.

Making sure to strip quickly, he wriggled into the suit. The PVC felt awkward against his skin, too tight and too smooth. Partly from embarrassment, Tim closed the suit all the way up his throat. Taking a quick glance down, he breathed a sigh of relief. He'd half expected Selina to install a ludicrously large jock into the suit. Thankfully, she'd spared him that torment. Holding his arms out, he smiled tentatively, turning to get to the feel as well as to let her asses him.

A hand crept up to her lips as she mock gasped, "My dear kitten, aren't you just fetching?"

He could feel his cheeks colour, despite his best attempts at warding off the response. Catwoman came forward, already suited up and dawning her mask, and did the clasp of the throat. Taking the hood, she carefully pulled it up, taking care with his hair. She smiled, a radiant upturn of the lips so unlike her usually lecherous leers. It made Tim's heart flutter, but the warmth the gesture caused was driven away when she playing yanked on the tail attached to the backside of the suit.

If ever questioned, he would deny having squeaked.

"You look wonderful, kitten. Check your belt, won't you?" Her tone belied her amusement and mischief; Tim was powerless to resist answering with a smirk.

Reaching down, he pulled a cylinder rod from the belt wrapped round his hips. Experimentally, he flicked his wrist. The soft clicks of extending metal echoed off the vaulted ceiling of her room. She'd obviously taken his extreme distaste for killing when choosing a weapons for him. She'd equipped him with the same steel claws he knew were hidden in her gloves as well and, while batons were more Dick's style and he missed his staff greatly, the telescope baton would do just nicely.

Again turning abruptly, her heels clicked as she made her way to the back courtyard. Tim's own steps echoed her own as he followed. Shrouded in moonlight, they made their way to the back villa. Carefully closing the door behind himself, Tim continued to follow faithfully as she hopped into the portal on the other side of the villa. While he didn't land as gracefully as she had, he was pleased to find that all the free fall training she'd drilled into him made his landing softer, quieter. He truly felt like a feline predator then. Casually strolling down the tunnel with Catwoman, he began to shed the skin of Tim Drake as his step grew surer and a confident swagger made its way into his walk.

When he'd left the manor for the last time, he'd made sure to completely strip himself of all identities associated with that phase of his life. Robin. Red Robin. Tim Drake-Wayne. The ghosts still haunted him, but the weight of his previous titles lightened with him as he smoothly transitioned into his role as David Cales, the son Selina had given up after a wayward trip to Miami. Tim had forged all the documents, taking the knowledge Batman had imparted upon him after his slightly botched attempt at creating an uncle.

Now.

Well, now he was again shifting, changing. At once, his began to relax, letting the tension bleed from his body as a steady stream of both adrenaline and dopamine flooded his brain, revving him up for his first night as Catlad, Catwoman's competent, and first, sidekick. The PVC became more of a comfort, a second skin that held him tight as it adjusted seamlessly to the environment around him. Contentment curved his lips into grin as he pulled down the goggles. The world lit around him, allowing him to better see in the darkness as they traversed to the heart of Gotham.

Worries bled away as he fully embraced his new role, reveling in the title of Catlad. Quickening his steps, he walked _beside_ Catwoman, as her equal. She made her approval palpable as she let a lingering smile stretch her painted lips.

"I'll make you into a proper feline yet, kitten," she purred, thoroughly pleased.

Raising a finger to her lips, she slowed and gave Tim a wink over her shoulder. Now was the time to prove that her months of mentoring were not wasted, that the hours spent doing lap after lap in the pool and sweating endlessly in the gymnastics room hadn't been for naught.

Scaling the ladder leading to street level, Tim waited patiently as she slide out from under the false manhole cover. Once she had completely left the tunnel, he followed suit, being carefully to slide just as smoothly as she had. Catwoman was like liquid gold, slipping from place to place with a continuous flow Tim knew he would never be able to imitate. He was human, she was superhuman, and none of it truly bothered him.

Climbing to his feet, he joined her in the back of the alley, already knowing her route as she steadily began to scale the building, using both her natural flexibility and skills to rise higher and higher till she disappeared over the ledge of the roof. A barely perceptible pout wormed its way to his face as he felt the vague prickles of envy run through him. His hands itched for a grappling gun. Fighting the engrained habit, he began to climb as well, slipping at times when his claws hadn't dug deeply enough into the brick and mortar.

She didn't seem displeased with his performance so far. Arching himself over the ledge and using momentum to his benefit, he landed silently on the roof, straightening himself and grinning playfully. He was nearly sad he hadn't asked Dick to teach him more in the area of flare. Those sorts of musing were best left with Tim Drake, the boy tucked away safely behind false faces of his own design.

"I'm feeling rather playful tonight, kitten. Let's go find some playmates. You can show them your new toys," Catwoman cooed, stretching out in a casual manner as she hopped off the roof once more.

Catlad followed, working himself much harder than was necessarily required as a new rush began to heat his blood. Twisting almost unnaturally and hopping from place to place, using his rather long legs to his advantage, in a soothing flurry of arrogance and ease. Further and further he fell into his role of Catlad, taking on the identity with vengeful ferocity borne only from the _need_ of a new beginning. He felt cleansed and freed, almost dreading tucking away his suit and once again morphing to David, or, God forbid, Tim.

They came upon Main Street while still creeping through the midnight above the streets. Pushing himself further, Catlad caught up to his mentor, beginning to let ease wash through his movements. At times, he wore he heard her purring, obviously approving of his new found grace and confidence. Already, he knew where she was going. Keeping by her side, they both landed in the back way of Infinity Diamonds. Taking up a position against the brick, she beckoned lazily for Catlad to go forward and show his technological prowess. While he'd never accuse Catwoman of being lazy, he was aware of her relief from the endless hours of hacking into more advanced security systems.

Infinity Diamonds employed a system more adept and successful than that of any military mainframe he had ever worked his way into. While it was a sad testament to the inner workings of the world at large, he reveled in the chance to flaunt his skills. Gloating and showing off had never been his specialty, but he soon found himself nearly giddy as he pulled free his personally modified PDA and linked into the control panel beside the steel door. Catlad was a chauvinist, that was for sure.

The hack took all of ten minutes, more than he would have liked after the latest upgrades he'd installed into his handheld. Frowning thoughtfully, he kept his mind racing as he went through other coding he could conjure to make even the hardest systems seem like child's play. Gently pushing the door open, he bowed dramatically and beckoned Catwoman to go forth.

Unsuppressed amusement danced through the emerald of her eyes , making them luminescent in the darkness they clung so tightly to. Replacing his PDA, he followed after swiftly, careful to watch for other security measures inside. He turned upon hearing Catwoman laugh softly. Sure enough, there were laser trip wires littering the place, hardly leaving enough space for someone as small as Damian to wriggle through. She seemed pleased though. With no audience but Catlad, she began her sensual dance through the trip wires, basking in her own skill as she moved with a lazy grace.

She was daring Catlad to do as she did, beckoning him to follow in her own silent way as he body twisted and writhed around the beams of red. Red Robin would have never done such a thing. He would have dismantled the wires as well before venturing any further. Catlad was not Red Robin.

He followed, focusing solely on the ache and burn of his muscles as he wove through the danger. Catwoman may have moved far more delicately than he did, but there was a hint of raw power that followed his every move. The subtle, tangible feel of prowess flowed from him, smoothing his movements even as his joints clicked softly as they rearranged to allow him to move as he pleased. There would have been a time when he may have fretted over the strain he pressed upon his body needlessly; now, it was addicting.

Catwoman was already cutting the glass of the cases with the tip of her claws, taking out jewels and examining them in a mockery of any ordinary customer. Catlad followed, moving towards some of the more valuable pieces. He was going to donate tonight's earnings to the Red Cross and was eager to amass as much as he could for the organization.

Flicking his wrist once more, the claws came out, glittering in the soft splashes of moonlight coming from the shop windows. The jewels still glittered from their place in the case, loosing no luster even in the twilight. I picked up an older piece with several strings of pearls leading to an ornate broach littered with crystalline white from the diamonds and hypnotic ruby from the other gems. He'd say it would go for a good few hundred thousand, conservatively. Tucking his treasure into his belt, he continued browsing, silently appraising the workmanship of some of the pieces.

Dark humour flooded Catlad because of his own antics. This suited him, somehow. Even before, it would have suited him. He'd always relied on quick, dry wit to amuse himself. Now, releasing himself from the chains he'd imprisoned himself in, Catlad felt free. Hell, _Tim_ felt free.

Filling his belt, he leaned against the glass and waited for Catwoman to take her fill as well. Surely they'd collectively cheated the business out of millions of dollars. Catlad had little sympathy, though, knowing that he held blood diamonds in his belt. Gemstones that others had bled and died for, _slaved_ for, only to never reap the rewards of their work. He'd only agreed to join Catwoman in her thievery if she agreed to target establishments that conducted dirty business. Buying blood diamonds for the sake of profit certainly counted as dirty business for him.

"I'm so proud of you, kitten," she purred, gliding to his side. Laying a gentle kiss to the crown on his forehead, she pulled back raised to her tiptoes to take a playful nibble from one of the ears on his hood. "I'm just so disappointed you won't get a chance to test your new toys."

Catlad didn't have to verbalize his agreement. Catwoman had long ago deciphered the complicated array of silent gestures Tim had always embraced. The serenity of the moment shattered as Catwoman twitched, seeming irritated. Turning coolly, she leaned beside Catlad on the glass, her arms splayed across the glass as she jutted out her hip. Seduction came easily to her, while Catlad struggled to at least attempt a sort of sensual pose.

"Picking up strays now, Catwoman?"

Catlad knew that voice, and he greatly disliked it. He may even go so far as to say he _hated_ that voice. Damian stepped from the shadows, somehow appearing menacing even with his short stature. Catlad was wary, already knowing of his abilities. Dick, parading as Batman, stepped out from the shadows as well. Catlad could detect no recognition from either as the teams quietly sized the other up.

There was no fear, no real worry. He knew how Dick and Damian fought, having battled them before. He'd watched them train, trained with them, been _trained_ by them (sans Damian). The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, heart speeding in anticipation as his back arched outward. Distantly, he made a mental note to not spend so much time around Selina's cats. Already, he was falling into natural feline responses.

"Put everything back and let us escort you to the authorities," Dick murmured forcefully, pitching his voice lower to appear more menacing than Tim knew he was.

It was a comfort to know his opponents so thoroughly; it gave him more confidence in his ability to best them. After suffering Damian's constant verbal tirades and Dick's neglect and abandonment, Tim truly wanted to make a mockery of them, make them feel as foolish as they had done to him. Tim's grudges always held fast, conviction keeping him rooted in his bitter anger. While the emotion was unhealthy, it left him feeling lighter than the quiet rage he'd always allow to fester in his belly. This sort of hurt, of irritation, tasted bitter on his tongue as he ran his tongue along the ridges of his palate. He could stand the sour taste, so long as the freedom of comfortable hatred kept him elevated from the deep, weighty despair of constant, controlled anger.

He was sick of carrying so much upon his shoulders. That was the first thing Selina had taught him. Not as Catwoman, but as Selina as she began to enfold him into her life. She'd lectured him on guilt and responsibility, prying into his mind and wiping the slate clean so Tim, David, could begin again. "Guilt is useless," she'd said. "It won't change a thing. Humanity's defining point is their tendency to slip. Mean well but fuck something up. Everyone's allowed their flaws, some are just more stigmatized, but who's to decide what's right and wrong?"

He'd mulled over her words for days. Then, something had clicked in his mind. While he could grasp nearly any subject, when it came to more personal mental capacities he often times fell short. Finally, while lying in the bed Selina had made for him in the room she had decorated just for him, he'd finally managed to break down the built up barriers around his beliefs and question them thoroughly. While he still held tightly to some, many he had shredded. That night, he'd slept peacefully. It was the first time he'd been allowed proper rest by his mind since his mother's death.

"Where's the fun in that?" Catlad questioned, relaxing his arched back into a more natural position and pitching his voice higher. Tipping his head to the side in a parody of innocence, he intoned admonishingly, "Only dogs roll over and play dead. I don't know about you, but I'm no mutt."

Smirking devilishly, he raised his hands as a cat would their paws, displaying his claws and allowing his lip to curl back to expose his teeth in a show of both dominance and warning.

"Want to play?"

"You're more irritating than clever," Damian spat, taking a batarang from his utility belt.

Catlad knew well what tricks were hidden in that belt. He had long ago become immune to the visual display of the bright inner colouring of Robin's cape. Anyone else unaccustomed would have subconsciously fallen prey to the trick. Ducking the thrown batarang and gliding away from Damian's forward attack, Catlad allowed himself a near face splitting grin. Shit eating grins had always been Kon's thing, but Catlad was willing to take up the habit.

Damian growled as he tried again, getting close and attempting to incapacitate Catlad. The maneuvers didn't work so well when the other knew where the strikes would attempt to land. He evaded most easily, slipping from Damian's clutches continuously as the boy attempted to grasp onto something, _someone_, now as flighty as drifting smoke or rising mist. Catlad could tell Damian was beginning to get irritated. His top lip curled into a sneer as he tried again and again to complete a nerve strike or to just land a solid hit.

He could hear Damian growling even as he chuckled softly. The flurry of movement came to an abrupt end when Catlad slinked onto of one of the higher glass cases. Quickly, he snatched another piece of jewelry from the case before using the shop's overzealous décor to climb higher and higher till he was perched comfortably on the second story railing. With knees bent and arm outstretched on his knees, Catlad coolly regarded the Bat duo below from behind the safety of his goggles.

"Get the fuck down here, cat fag!" Damian yelled, fists balled and body wound tight at having been evaded so easily.

Catlad tsked, one finger wagging playfully in the air as he calmly watched Catwoman escape Dick as well.

"That's not very nice, or appropriate," he reprimanded, purposefully patronizing the demon seed that had given him so much grief. It felt good to lash out now, to tease and taunt without the ever hanging obligation of being civil to family tainting his actions and conversations. Taking the ring from the palm of his hand, he slipped it onto his ring finger and paused to admire it before frowning thoughtfully, "It's not really my colour. More yours, I'd say, Cat. Happy belated Mother's Day, I suppose."

From across the store, he could hear Catwoman cackle as she got her whip in hand. Damian was preparing to zip line up to Catlad, ready to engage again in their fruitless waltz. He knew what was coming, though. Catwoman extended the whip with chilling accuracy and caught one of the banisters near Catlad. Leaping up, she effortless sailed across the room. Apparently Dick had not anticipated the move. He was unable to stop her. Tim couldn't really fault him; Catwoman was unpredictable at best and even Batman had troubles keeping the woman in his sight. Bruce had more experience with both Selina and Catwoman, too, unlike Dick.

Taking his cue, Catlad quickly took off the ring and dropped it as Catwoman ran past below to exit out the way they had come. She drifted through the alarms, uncaring now that they had their quarry safely tucked away in their belts. He moved just a fraction too late to make a completely clean get away. He was sure he'd be scolded for it later. Damian was propelling forward to the second story, a batarang clutched tightly in one hand and poised to strike.

Forcing himself to sink lower, he reached to his side and drew his baton. With swift accuracy, he both dodged Damian's anger fueled attack and sent the boy sprawling back to the first floor tiles with a sizable red welt decorating his cheek. Dick was at his side as once, subtly checking that his charge and sidekick hadn't been seriously injured by the fall. Catlad took the opportunity and hopped from the banister to the window just behind him. Slicing the glass with his claws, he stepped through the gap he'd created and took off.

It was thrilling. _All_ of it. He felt alive, revived. Even flying didn't seem to be so farfetched for him now. He'd just completely duped Gotham's top crime fighters and had done it with such _style_ and _ease_ he could scarcely believe it himself. His hands shook as he gripped a windowsill and propelled himself up onto another building. The roofs would be unsafe for now, knowing full well that bats tended to stick to rooftops for their late night chases and prowls.

Catlad traversed the city, carefully staying hidden as he methodically picked his way back to the entrance Catwoman used to access the city subtly. He did a check before he climbed inside, ensuring that their safe passage would not be discovered. While Damian and Dick would soar from building to building in search of their quarry, Tim had become a near expert in traversing the city scape. Catwoman had been meticulous about teaching him of the ways one could get around.

Letting himself drop to the passage floor instead of climbing down, he allowed himself to contently let his eyes flutter shut as he basked in the glow of a crime filled high. He was a bit guilty, yes. The habit of shouldering guilt was not one could ever abandon completely. Instead of a biting, overwhelming sense of guilt, he could only feel a slight twinge. He almost didn't recognize the sensation, having become accustomed to feeling it seep down to the bone. This lighter form was masked easily by the sheer _joy_ he was basking in.

He hadn't been this. . . Happy, in a very long time. Since Kon had come back. Even that happiness had faded, leaving behind only nagging worry that by being close to Tim, Kon would end up dead once more. Irrational, yes, but Tim couldn't shake the assumption that those close to him would be irreparably hurt if they came too close. With Selina, and even he could not understand it (though his mind had tried many times to no avail), the world washed away. He felt _normal_. Just an outrageously intelligent guy named David that attended college and was more eager to arrive home to sit and talk with his "mother" and play with the assorted felines round the house than hang out with others his age.

It felt good; it really did.

Before, Robin always haunted him, draped himself across Tim and infiltrated even the most sacred spaces of his consciousness. Red Robin had been worse, burrowing into him like a parasite and allowing all the self-destructive yearnings to simmer in Tim's gut till it nearly made him retch most nights. Tim would never recover from being tarnished by both Robin and Red Robin, but, with David, he could begin again.

The feeling freed him and he clutched tightly to the idea, completely unwilling to let go for fear of what would become of him should he slip back into his former role. Continuing his role as a bat and Wayne would have destroyed him, and he knew it. Too introverted to seek help and too frightened of endangering others, he would have sacrificed both his body and mind to keep playing his part in the Gotham cape crowd production.

He'd asked Selina that first day, why him? Why pick Tim? He wasn't accustomed to her ways, couldn't have been any more fundamentally different. She'd gotten a melancholy little grin on her face and stared steadily into Tim's eyes. Remarking matter-of-factly, she'd said, "You remind me of a child I lost, and I refuse to lose another."

What discomfort that remark had made had soon been replaced by tranquility.

Selina never asked what was bothering him. She never berated him when he fell into a brooding fit. With gentle hands and, more times than not, a warm cup of milk she'd bring him back. Never did she over step her boundaries and she made no real attempts to actually assert herself as Tim's mother figure. It was always gently prodding and silent assurances, born of true affection and fueled by a strengthening bond between them. She understood. Tim was unused to being understood. Too many could not comprehend the mechanisms of his mind; not even he could at times. Selina did though, she understood by accepting the conundrums and never questioning the contradictions and confusion.

She understood by not understanding; she cared without caring.

Tim liked that she was just as twisted as he was.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Yes, this time it is actually me, anachronisticaddendum. I've decided to start putting my DCU works up on ff net. Just because I wanna. Enjoy, read, review. All that lovely stuff, you know.


	2. Chapter 2

"Tim, come eat, or so help me, I will drag you by the scruff of your neck," Selina threatened, an imposing figure shadowed in the training room doorway.

He didn't want to stop. After waking the day after his first heist, alternate versions of the previous night ran unchecked through his mind. In most, he found himself locked away after being bested by the remaining Bat clan. So many things could have turned South and he'd been too careless before, too unrestrained. For the last week, he'd been scrimping on everyday living in favour of improving his skills further.

Grudgingly, Tim followed her order, sulking the entire way.

Half way to the dining hall, Darin began his traditional ritual of attempting to trip Tim while his legs felt like after workout jelly. While he was fond of the feline currently weaving between his feet, irritation crept up into the back of his throat like bile. Affection overrode any annoyance as he paused and bent to pick the ragdoll up. As soon as Darin was nestled comfortably in Tim's arms, the cat went completely limp, purring contentedly. Absently, Tim stroked just behind Darin's ear. He got a hiss when he gently set Darin down. The cat strutted away, a rather pompous air following him.

"Darin is such a diva," Tim commented off handedly, taking his seat.

Pan seared salmon with mixed greens and fruit salad: delicious. Tim couldn't help but lick his lips, completely missing the knowing smirk gracing Selina's continence. She was all too cognizant of how Tim had changed in just these past few months. He'd been a sulking, brooding mess of a teenage boy, too much like Bruce for her comfort. Time and again, she would stalk the young Bat. To watch one so young continuously advance deeper into mourning and melancholy had been too much: Selina had to act.

While he hadn't improved much, she could still sense the shift. Tim never really smiled, or laughed, or went to hang out with others his age. He stuck to himself mostly, saying the minimum necessary and occasionally allowing himself a moment of immaturity. Darin shared more frequent heart to hearts with Tim than Selina was allowed, but he was _talking_ and that was enough for her. She knew how comforting a silent, steadfast companion could be, especially when one was allowed to cuddle the bundle of fur.

For weeks, Tim went about the average routine of any ordinary boy his age. He attended college and attempted to pay proper attention to the lessons. Twice a day, he would make chit-chat with Mrs. Garrison, a lovely old lady he sat next to while riding to campus. Rarely resting for more than four hours a night, he visited the Starbucks just a few blocks down the road, nestled between his favorite café and park. The mundaneness of it all became to wear him thin. Though he told Darin as much, the feline offered no advice other than snuggling further into Tim's lap.

He could not have been more relieved when Selina invited him on another late night excursion. While he still wasn't terribly fond of following through with a heist, he _needed_ to get out and do something: shed himself. After being a Bat for so very long, anything less than last-night adventures left him feeling weighted down and devastatingly bored. There was only so much coding a boy could do before even that lost its luster.

That night, they suited up and repeated the late night ritual of languidly infiltrating Gotham's classy uptown. Tim Drake took up his position in the rear of Catboy's mind, constantly vigilante but surrendering most control. Catboy slunk through the shadows, twining round obstacles with a fluidity that would likely make even Dick jealous, not that he wanted to think on that particular jerk.

As usual, things were blessedly quiet. From quick glances to the roof terraces, Catboy could detect no hint of any Bats out and about. Catwoman had insisted on going on ahead, claiming she wished to snag a present for Tim before he could get a glimpse of the gem. He'd shrugged carelessly and found himself an unused window to perch upon. Figuring he'd given her enough time, Catboy slid from his resting place and crept into the soon to be ravished jewelry store. Through the entry way, things seemed deplorably boring. Coming into the main show room, the hairs on the back of Catboy's neck stood on end.

Before him, Catwoman lazily strolled about the glass cases with a hand gliding over the smooth surface. Three Bats, Dick, Damian, and Jason, were poised for an assault. While Catwoman didn't bother to glance his way, the Bats did and Catboy's blood went cold. All _three_ of them would be much more difficult to fend off than just two. _Much_ more difficult.

"Oh lookie, it's the little kitty cat," Jason taunted, Damian snickering behind him. "You look like your milk soured."

The cat puns really got old after the, oh, _first_ one.

Inwardly cringing at the absolutely terrible back and forth, Catboy casually went to the glass cases. He tried for all the world to not seem quiet as on edge as he truly felt. Inside, his stomach roiled rebelliously and a tumulus cloud of disinterested irritation skittered across his flesh like creeping mites. The sensation was entirely unpleasant, but he schooled his features and hopped onto a case, crossing his legs and leaning back.

Catboy shrugged almost helplessly, a 'What can you do?' smile tugging on the edges of his lips, "You ruined my fun, being the nosey Batbrains you are."

He could have sworn he saw Dick twitch beneath the cowl of Batman. For the sake of his own sanity, he chose to ignore the definitely could be interpreted some other way pseudo-twitch. From the sidelines of his vision, Catboy could see Catwoman cutting open another glass case, delicate hands deliberately grabbing the stunningly grandiose diamond piece within.

"Put it down," Damian ground out, his eyes narrowing beneath the white lenses of his domino.

Catwoman shot him a feral smirk, "I don't quite feel like it."

They were playing with fire: they both knew it. The warming rush spreading throughout his body, the tidal wave of endorphins and adrenaline, told Tim it would be worth any bumps or bruises he could possibly attain. This game of cat and mouse was by far much more fun than man-handling a group of overzealous thugs. He and Catwoman were straddling a dangerous line, one which could bring everything Tim had built to collapse. While his mind rarely cleared and guilt still nipped at his heels, at least now he felt _some_ semblances of happiness, however far and few between they seemed to be.

Before-

Well, he didn't like thinking about before.

Using a well-timed and deliberate slam to the glass case he sat on, Catboy reached in through the hole he had created. He snatched up a truly audacious gold collar piece studded with all manner of jewels and gems. His eyes stared out from behind the protective covering of his goggles, watching the Bats as he slipped the piece on over the PVC.

"Don't I just look fetching?" Tim sing-songed, tilting his head back and curving the very edges of his lips into a come-hither leer.

"The hell are you even on, kid?" Jason sneered cruelly.

His lips wretched upward in distaste while one hand slithered to the holsters at his side. Batman seized his arm before he could pull the gun out, without words expressing his unfathomable dislike for taking a life. Jason had far too many "accidents" when it came to aim already when he received an invitation to join the patrols. Catboy relaxed marginally. At least he didn't have to face the prospect of a bullet to the face by his pseudo-brother.

"Well, boys, it's been lovely chatting with you as always," Catwoman intoned from her position on the floor, "but we really must be going. Cat naps to take, more precious gems to steal. You understand, I'm sure."

Taking that go ahead, Tim vaulted over the case behind him. He skidded with one leg out stretched, both bemused and terrified to see several batarangs impale themselves in the concrete above his head. A ruckus broke out behind him, but, steadfastly, he remained true to Catwoman's teachings. Using the now useless batarangs as step, Catboy propelled himself up the wall and slipped out the window in one fluid motion. Letting himself drop, he rolled off the concrete and onto the dirt of an abandoned lot.

Dully, his ankle throbbed. The twinge of blossoming pain faded out as he allowed his baser instincts to take over. Heart pounding, breath coming in shallow bursts, he slipped through the remaining twilight to weave his way back to his safe haven. Over the calming din of Gotham's nightlife, Tim picked up on the growing roar of a cycle's engine. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself behind a half shattered pile of rubble. All colour seeped away as he became the shadows, just another misshapen monster soon to disappear once the dawn came.

He _knew_ he'd been followed when the thundering ceased and gravel splattered the cinder blocks strewn about near the lot entrance. The heavy crunch of boots brought Tim's heart to his throat. Painfully swallowing around the newly formed lump, he prayed to not hear the click of a safety. Dick had sent Jason after him.

"Here, kitty kitty. Come on, this ain't fuckin' hide and seek," Jason crooned, crackling the bones of his hands. More an intimidation tactic than any need to limber up, he bent over and picked up several stones. "You know, I always figured cats were skittish when you got them stuck in a corner. Looks to me, you're in one _hell_ of a corner."

Tim heard the near tangible crack as one of the stones made contact with a formation of rubble not ten feet from where he had chosen to huddle. Involuntarily, his eyes slid shut as he sat patiently through another crack. The tension slithered down his throat, clogging his lungs and making intelligent and rational thought difficult. Jason wasn't a burglar or gang lord. He was a _Bat_, one of the good guys now (though Tim always debated on the validity of that claim). If Jason didn't _fuck him up_, then he'd be carted to, most likely, Arkham.

Sweat beaded across his flesh, tendrils of it slipping down the curve of his back uncomfortably. Three more cracks went by, each crashing like a short lived land slide. When silence reigned, Tim _knew_ something shitty was about to happen. His legs had already tensed for a quit exit, hands flexed and ready to push off the rubble for added momentum, but a hand encircled the back of his neck and _squeezed_.

A strangled gasp tore from Tim's throat. Reflexively, his hands went to the offending limb keeping him relatively still. Digging his claws in, Catboy turned all his attention to shredding the flesh of Jason's arm. In retaliation, Jason tightened his grip, pressing upon the pressure points and causing Tim's version to momentarily white out. Stilling, he growled low in his throat.

"Let me go, Red Hood," Tim bit out, once more grinding his teeth in both frustration and shame.

Jason tsked like a mother hen from behind him, directing Tim to stand and come round the stone wall he'd used as cover, "Now, you know I can't do that, kitty."

Catboy turned his head as best as possible, tilting it to one side as he sneered, "It's Catboy, not kitty."

Rumbling echoes of laughter filled the still night air. Somehow, Jason managed to get out, "I don't give a _shit_."

Tim pasted on his best poker face, letting all the frustration and worry bleed away till he was left with cold, clinical calm once more. Catboy protested at Red Robin reentering the fray of Tim's jumbled mind, but both conceded the temporary need to at least partially slip into Tim's old persona. Still staring at Jason, Red Robin formulated the plan and left to once more allow Catboy free reign.

A devilish, coy little smirk crawled across Tim's lips.

The contemptuous grin slid from Jason's face as he cocked a brow, "What're you so happy about?"

Catboy declined answering. Instead, he found solid footing and pushed upward, slipping one leg between himself and Jason. The heel of his foot made a sickening crack as it came in contact with Jason's jaw. Giving his opponent no time to recover, Tim snuck in his second leg and pushed Jason back with a horse kick to the sternum. He went back with a strangled _oomph_ as Catboy landed on all fours.

Thighs tensing to make a quick retreat, Tim managed to lunge up half way before a hand seized his ankle and yanked him back again. He turned and swiped at Jason, catching and shredding more the man's shirt than anything else. The message came across loud and clear: Catboy was not one to be toyed with nor underestimated. He could see Jason's lips curl into a disturbingly overjoyed shame of a smile before he punched Tim full in the gut.

And _goddamn_ did that hurt.

Recovering before the second blow could fall, Tim snatched Jason's wrist and _twisted_. Above the roar of their labored breathing, Catboy heard the sickening pop of a newly dislocated joint. Tim's heart when out to his former Bat brother. From experience, he knew dislocating anything even remotely close to the lower arm generated enough pain to topple any ordinary man. He could do nothing for Jason, at least, not anymore. Tim took his opening and wretched his ankle away before scrambling to his feet, leaning more heavily on his right than left.

"Shit," Jason cursed, "you'll pay for that, you fuckin' pussy."

Catboy raised a taunting finger, waggling it back and forth once he was a safe distance from his opponent, "Ah ah, watch your language."

For his efforts, Jason spit Tim's way. He shoved his wrist back into place. Only the slight crease in the corners of his eyes signified any acknowledgement of the pain. One threatening step forward then Jason stopped. He stared behind Tim, a dour expression flittering across his features. With brows knit together, Jason bit out, "Scarecrow."

Catboy whirled, at once terrified. Tim had never been a fan of Scarecrow's fear gas: ever. Getting a good enough dose now. . . Well. He wasn't even sure. There could be no risking it, however. Jason proved to be a good liar. A very good liar.

All at once, Tim's world spun. For a moment, all else melted away as he lost of track of all sense of grounding. Reality slammed back to him as his body made rough impact with brick. His head slammed back, making his vision swim before he could properly focus enough to get a grip on the situation. When he processed his current position, Catboy decided he rather enjoyed being utterly disorientated rather than _this_.

Jason's hands encircled Tim's wrists, keeping them firmly pinned to the brick, as he leaned in and pressed them together from chest to thigh. His legs were spread just enough that, were he to try and move, balance would abandon him and ultimately lead to failure. Jason's feet kept his legs in place using the obvious threat of breaking the bones in his feet.

No breathing room; no wiggle room.

Catboy raged internally, railing against the confines. Contempt slipped into Tim's eyes as he raised his head to look up at Jason. He knew Jason wanted him to _feel_ what their short foray had done. And, for the love of all that was, is, or could be holy, Tim sure as hell got _that_ message. Jason was hard as a rock and, apparently, like Bruce, had a Cat family obsession. Bruce never could truly say no to Selina. Jason wasn't Bruce though. Jason had been twisted and Tim could think of no concrete plan to manuover out of this predicament.

For once in his life, Tim found himself at a bit of a loss. Catboy insisted on thrashing, just a full on bid for freedom, while Red Robin calmly attempted to completely work through the options, though none were viable. Tim had no idea what to do. _Tim_ wasn't a thief or a crime fighter; he was the awkward kid in the back of the class, usually sleeping but always doing well on tests. The guy that you could count on to flake and then apologize profusely. This wasn't Tim's thing and, for once, he was a bit frightened.

Before, Robin handled the fear, proceeded by Red Robin. Both could manipulate the less desirable impulses and emotions better than Tim ever could. What exactly did he have now?

Determination.

Knitting his brows and figuratively putting on a stiff upper lip, he went limp and lax within Jason's grasp. Once knotted and tensed muscles relaxed in a wave of pure survival instinct. He'd heard, and seen once, what Catwoman did in such situations. Whether Todd fell for it or not hung heavily in the air as a potential liability. Too late to back out, Catboy arched his back, pressing into Red Hood and creating a graceful curve to the entirety of his body. He felt like a wanton_ whore_ and, not for the first time, thanked _whatever_ higher power that the costume allowed him anonymity.

Once more, he allowed Catboy the reigns to do what the Cat family did best: toying with Bats.

"Oops, looks like you caught me," Catboy purred. "Oh, whatever will I do now?"

Patiently, Tim waited for the response. It could potentially condemn him or throw open a whole door to freedom. Jason could go either way; nothing was _ever_ predictable when it came to Jason. _Ever_. Even on the go-

Oh. _Oh._

Tim's brain once more short circuited when the cold steel of a gun barrel dug in just below his jaw. The imminent threat need not have been voiced. Swallowing quietly, Tim kept his position and just _dared_ Jason to pull the trigger. Dick would just be _thrilled_ to be informed his misguided brother had blown out Tim's brains. Truly, he would.

"You know, that ain't gonna work on me, kitty cat," he returned. His voice hung somewhere between a visceral snarl and intrigued approval. No term could encompass all that hung in Jason's words, but they made Tim shudder in a not entirely unpleasant manner. "Batman may be a sucker for it, but I'm not Batman and you're not as hot as Catwoman."

One of Jason's leg released his own, coming instead to nestle between the space in Tim's leg. His knee raised up, just a teasing, glancing touch, but Tim's blood ran cold even as his breath came just a bit more ragged. Damn his body. Damn, damn, _damn_ his body. The familiar beginnings of raw arousal began tightening a noose in the pit of his stomach, coiling with the fear and frustration, bonding with the excitement and anticipation. Oh _God_, he was getting turned on from _Todd_, the guy that tried to _kill_ him, and here he was, pinned to a wall and getting hot for Red Hood.

A keening whine bubbled up from Catboy's throat, both begging for more and pleading for release. And not the good kind of release. The kind where he could scurry home with his tail between his legs to nurse his ego over a cup of warm milk with Darin curled beside him. He wanted to go _home_.

And that thought jarred him enough to incite a whole new urgency. Somehow, from here to then, he'd begun to think of Selina's villa as home: a place of comfort and serenity. He hadn't felt that sort of connection for a very long time.

Desperation often gave way to silly follies, but Tim wanted to go _home_ and fucking Todd was in his _way_.

Pouting, Tim spit out, "I'm just so hurt to hear that."

Later, he could brow beat himself for the _outrageously_ risky and stupid move, but he couldn't think straight, not with Jason's knee _there_ and the aching need for home engulfing him. Jason's mouth opened to utter another quick rejoinder, but Tim beat him to the punch: literally. Though he could feel the bones of his wrists grind painfully and the tendons stretch past their limit, he managed to free himself from Todd's grasp and land a right hook. Just a breath of an opening, but Catboy snatched it greedily.

Using the wall, he slammed Jason right on the solar plexus with a brutal kick, then another, till enough space lingered between them. He spun on his heels, vaulting over the concrete wall behind. Abandoning most of his recent teachings, Tim just ran. He clumsily scaled the fences blocking his way and skidded round corners. Along the way, he managed to slam into a building side. Ignoring the dull throb of his side, he pressed on and refused to let up even as he dropped into the blissfully familiar cavern.

While conquering the stairs, he slipped twice but managed to keep his grip. Pulling himself up and shedding both his hood and goggles in the process, Tim sped into the house. He left the door ajar in his hurry but only one thought lingered in his mind. Racing through the dining room, falling in the process, he scrambled back up and took the stairs three at a time. He didn't bother to even _try_ masking the wild look clouding his features.

Upon hearing all the racket, Selina came out of her room, only half out of her own costume. The surprise colouring her demeanor was not lost on Tim, though it processed as only a subtle recognition of her mood. Tearing down the hall, he didn't bother with words. Instead, in one of the rare moments of vulnerability he allowed others to see, Tim wrapped his arms around Selina's chest and just _clung_. He buried his face into the crook of her shoulder and just basked in everything that was Selina.

In the morning, they could go back to their usual casual relationship. For now, Tim needed this. He did his best to convey that notion through tightening his arms and sucking in a shuddering breath. She must have caught on because, just a second after, her own arms wrapped around his shoulders and she pressed them ever closer. Her cheek came to rest atop his head as she began to lightly sway them back and forth. Tim couldn't have been more relieved.

He had no idea how long they stood there, embracing, but the miscellaneous aches began to creep up once more as his breathing righted itself. She never loosened her hold nor spoke a word, but it was enough. When Tim's arms drooped, she gently pried him off and, with a delicate hand on the small of his back, led Tim to the bathroom. While he carefully stripped off his costume, Selina drew a bath for him. Lying a towel on the counter, she departed from the room, leaving the door open just a crack.

Eternally grateful but unable to properly express it, Tim stared at her back.

Once left alone to his own devices, Tim shut off all intelligent thought. Bleaching his mind, if only for a moment, he lowered himself into the tub. A hiss worked its way from between his clenched teeth as his body protested the sudden heat. He plowed on till he was chin deep in the water before adding bubbles. Childish, maybe, but a necessity after a night like _that_ one. Kicking his feet like a despondent toddler, Tim filled the tub with bubbles.

Somehow, while he was intensely focusing on a rather large bubble sculpture he'd begun, Darin snuck into the bathroom. Perching on the side, Darin mewled, begging for attention. He leaned over, nuzzling Tim's cheek till he got what he want. Drying his hand on the carpet below, Tim absently stroked under Darin's chin while he continued his bath time master piece.

Batman would be appalled if he could see him now.


End file.
